


Line in the Sand

by DesireeArmfeldt



Series: Nonlinear Relationships [1]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Pre-Slash, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Ray make a deal.  Prequel to Two Points Make A Line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Line in the Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to luzula for beta, especially for inspiring me to fix the ending. (Hopefully this version makes more sense.)
> 
> I am sort of ambivalent about the use of tags, especially relationship-tags, because I usually write stories imagining my reader doesn't have those extra hints to go on. Usually I put in the tags anyway, because I like their usefulness to readers doing searches or deciding what to read. In the case of this story, luzula tells me that the non-tag-enabled experience was very different from the tag-enabled one, so I'm experimenting with leaving them out. On the other hand, this story is now part of a series, so if you've already read Two Points Make A Line, you'll have contextual hints anyway. :)
> 
> If you haven't read Two Points Make A Line, you might as well read this one first, as it comes chronologically earlier. Which will, of course, change your experience of reading Two Points..., which was originally intended as a standalone. Boy, reading is complicated, isn't it? :)

Kowalski pinches the bridge of his nose and lets Vecchio’s rant wash over him while he concentrates on keeping himself together enough to not deck him. 

He _knows_ he shouldn’t have said that stuff, not to Fraser.  He knows Fraser takes extra special care to make sure that Kowalski never feels unwelcome, from the strict schedule he maintains for which Ray he liases with on which day, to the way he manipulates things so that no matter who’s inviting who to dinner, it somehow always ends up being Fraser and Vecchio and Kowalski, the three fucking musketeers.  It’s not Fraser’s fault that Vecchio’s the brand-name original and Kowalski’s the cheap knock-off.  And Fraser honestly does like him, they’re friends, it’s all good.  It’s just, he can’t help wondering whether Fraser would actually notice if he up and vanished one day, as long as Vecchio was still around.

Usually, he’s smart enough not to _say_ so. 

But today, he lost it, and now he’s sick at the memory of Fraser’s wounded expression right before he went all concerned and polite, and Vecchio started blustering, and Kowalski walked out of the diner so he couldn’t fuck things up even worse.

What Kowalski wants is some time to wind down and think about how he’s going to apologize to Fraser tomorrow.  What he’s got is Vecchio pacing around his apartment, waving his hands and spouting bullshit while Kowalski is trying to a) not start a fistfight and b) think of how to get Vecchio to leave him the fuck alone.

“Look,” says Vecchio.  “I don’t care if you don’t like me.  I don’t need you to be polite to me.  But there is one thing you don’t get to do.  You don’t get to yell at Benny like that.”

“Who died and put you in charge, here?” growls Kowalski.  “You’re such a tough guy, what, you’re gonna make me sleep with the fishes if I don’t do what you say?”

Vecchio’s olive skin gets kind of chalky-looking and his eyes get real hard for a second, before he takes a breath and lets it out slow.

“I’m just telling you,” he says evenly.  “You don’t hurt Benny.  That’s a line you don’t cross.”

“Look, I—”  Kowalski sighs.  “Fraser’s my friend.  I don’t _want_ to hurt him.  I got pissed off, I said something dumb, I didn’t mean it, okay?  What do you want me to say, here?”

Vecchio rubs a hand over the back of his close-shaven head.  “I don’t know.  I want to be able to have dinner with Benny without having to worry about your sulky bullshit.”

“You want me to disappear, is what you want.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” admits Vecchio.  “But it’s pretty clear that’s not gonna happen.  Besides, Benny wouldn’t like it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d be heartbroken,” says Kowalski sarcastically.

“He would,” says Vecchio, all serious.  “It’d just about kill him.”

“I dunno, one rude, loudmouthed Chicago cop is plenty for anyone.  I’m like the spare tire, here.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Kowalski, grow up already!”  Vecchio throws up his hands in disgust.

“Excuse me?”

“You are such a fucking baby!  What’s your problem?  You’re banging the guy, but you’re so insecure you can’t even stand the thought of him being friends with someone else?”

Kowalski gapes at him.  “I’m—the fuck— _what_ did you say?”

“I said, you’re so insecure—”

“You think I’m _sleeping with Fraser?”_

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that supposed to be some big secret?  Because if so, you might want to try being a little less obvious about it.”

“Obvious?  It’s not a secret, Vecchio, it’s a total fucking _fantasy_ that you made up in your _head._ ”

Vecchio looks like he’s been smacked with a two-by-four, which would be totally hysterical if Kowalski weren’t about two seconds from clocking him.

“You’re not sleeping together?” asks Vecchio after a while.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“’Cause you sure look like you are.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” asks Kowalski.

“Nothing.”

“No, what?” 

“Nothing,” repeats Vecchio.  “Forget it.”

“Fine.”

“So you’re really not—”

“I’m not fucking well sleeping with Fraser, all right?” Kowalski yells, losing any grip he still had on his cool.

“Why not?” asks Vecchio.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?”  Face burning, he turns away and pretends to look out the window so he doesn’t have to see Vecchio watching him make a fool of himself.

“So, I wasn’t totally off my nut, then,” says Vecchio quietly.  “Maybe you’re not doing him, but you want to.”

Kowalski sighs.  No point in trying to save face now.  He looks back over his shoulder at Vecchio and says, “Yeah, sure, I want to sleep with him.  Me and the rest of the fucking world.  Only people I know off the top of my head who don’t want to do Fraser are Stella (don’t ask me why), Welsh, and—”

Vecchio holds up one hand to stop him.

“Of course,” Kowalski groans.  “You want to get into the Mountie’s pants too.  Of course you do.”

“Hey, watch your mouth.  It’s not like that.  Benny’s my best friend.  I love the guy.”  Which is a thing Vecchio says from time to time, all casual like it doesn’t mean anything.  And he almost manages to say it that way now, but his voice is a little too rough.

“Yeah, Vecchio, I know.  Trust me, I know.”  And turnabout is fair play, so even though he’s not sure he really wants to hear the answer, he asks anyway.  “So how come _you’re_ not sleeping with him?”

“Well, for one thing, like I just finished getting through your thick skull, I thought he was with you.  I’ve got principles, you know.”

Kowalski snorts.  “You mean, you know Fraser wouldn’t cheat in a million years.”

Vecchio shrugs.  “But hey, apparently I was wrong about him being taken, so maybe it’s time to reconsider my options.”  He flashes that smarmy smile that always makes Kowalski want to wipe the floor with Vecchio’s skinny ass.  But this time it just makes him sick to his stomach.

_Cool,_ he tells himself, like he’s been doing since high school. Sometimes it even works.  _Cool, cold, wall of ice.  Don’t let the bastards see they’re getting to you._  

“Free country,” he bites out.  “Knock yourself out, have a blast.”

“That be okay with you?  If me and Benny got together?”

“I don’t see how you need my blessing, here,” says Kowalski, shoving his hands in his pockets so they don’t betray him.  “You wanna ask Fraser to _go steady_ , ain’t nothing I can do about that, one way or the other.”

Vecchio shakes his head.  “Kowalski, you are just too dumb to live.”

“Listen, asshole—”

“Shut up.”  Vecchio pulls out his cell phone and dials while he keeps talking.  “I don’t know how Benny puts up with you, and it’d serve you right if I just let you shoot yourself in the foot, here, but I don’t feel like going down as collateral damage.” 

He holds the phone between his ear and shoulder while he scribbles something on a scrap of paper.

“Hey, Benny,” he says into the phone.  “Hope I didn’t wake you or anything.  Nah, everything’s fine, it’s just your friend Kowalski’s got a question for you.”

“What?—no—“ protests Kowalski, but Vecchio shoves the phone into his hands and he’s got no choice but to say, “Uh, hello?”

“Hello, Ray.”  Fraser’s voice in his ear sounds worried, and really, who could blame him?  “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s cool,” Kowalski stammers.  “Look, I, uh, I’m sorry for being a jerk earlier, huh?  I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you, and I didn’t mean all that stuff I said.  I’m sorry.  Okay?”

“It’s all right,” says Fraser.  “But Ray, if my behavior has been upsetting you—”

“Listen, Fraser, can we not talk about this right now?  Some other time, tomorrow, if you want, just, not now, not over the phone.”  Not in front of Vecchio, who barely seems to have reacted to Kowalski’s apology, and who is now shoving that piece of paper at him impatiently.

“As you wish,” says Fraser.

“Thanks, buddy,” he says, trying to figure out what the hell Vecchio wants him to do, here.

“Ray says you want to ask me something?” Fraser prompts him.

“I, well, uh. . .” 

There are plenty of questions he'd love to ask Fraser, but most of them he hasn’t asked up to now for a reason, and there’s damn few he’d want to spill in front of Vecchio.  _Who do you like better, me or Vecchio?_ is too pathetic and juvenile even for him.  Right now, the top of the list is, _Vecchio thinks you want to sleep with me, is that true?_ , but even if he could get up the guts to spit it out, no way is he giving Vecchio the satisfaction.   

While Kowalski’s standing there spinning his wheels, Vecchio jabs a finger at the paper Kowalski’s holding and makes talky-mouth gestures with his other hand.

“Uh, yeah, Fraser, I just wanted to ask you. . .”  He unfolds the paper and starts to read it aloud.  “Which would you rather—”  His brain catches up with what his eyes are looking at, and he snaps his mouth shut. 

_Which would you rather do: choose between me and Ray, or saw your right hand off with a bread knife?_

He glares at Vecchio, who shrugs calmly back at him.

“Ray?  Are you still on the line?”

“Uh, yeah, right here, Fraser.  Sorry.  Which would you rather do tomorrow: meet us for lunch, or swing by the station on your own in the afternoon?”

No question, Fraser knows something hinky’s going on.  But he just answers straight-up.  “I’d be happy to meet the two of you for lunch, Ray.  I don’t believe the Inspector will have any need for me after twelve.”

“Great, excellent.  Talk to you tomorrow, Fraser, uh, sweet dreams.”

“The same to you,” says Fraser, and hangs up.

“I ain’t chicken,” Kowalski tells Vecchio’s raised eyebrows.  “That ain’t why I didn’t read it.”

“Never said it was,” says Vecchio, who seems to be trying to imitate Fraser’s patented calm-voice-of-reason schtick.  “So why didn’t you?”

“I—”  The answer is _intuition_ , and Kowalski’s brain hasn’t caught up with his gut yet.

“Knew the answer already?”

“Fuck you,” snarls Kowalski, suddenly shaking with rage, or maybe that adrenaline rush that comes the minute after a near miss.  “I’d asked Fraser that, he’d’ve, I don’t even know what.  Dumped us both and took off for Canada, or, or, gone out and done something really mindbogglingly dangerous, or. . .”  He doesn’t even know how to say what he’s imagining: silence on the line, deadly frozen look on Fraser’s face. 

Vecchio looks sick as he nods slowly.

“I didn’t—”  He clears his throat.  “I didn’t think about what it would sound like, to him.  I’m sorry.”

Kowalski waves a hand vaguely in his direction.

“But that’s my point,” says Vecchio, less softly.  “Worst thing we could do to Benny is force him to choose between us.”

“So, what?  He wants us both—”  Kowalski pauses for just a fraction of a second, and Vecchio (damn him) nods.  “But he can’t choose one of us over the other.  And we can’t _ask_ him to choose.  So, we’re all just doomed to a lifetime of blue-balls, is that what you’re trying to tell me? ”

“Well. . .That’s one solution.”

“You got another in mind?”

“We could choose for him,” says Vecchio.

“Huh?”

“You and me.  We decide that one of us is gonna back off and let the other one, you know, ask Benny out.  And then we tell him, look, here’s the deal, we’re both okay with this setup, what do you say?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” says Kowalski.

“It would work,” insists Vecchio.  “If he was sure he wasn’t going to hurt anyone, or lose either of us over it.  If we said it was okay.  He’d do it.”

Kowalski makes himself actually think about it.  It’s kind of weird, but he’s happily done weirder things for Fraser.  And it would make Fraser happy.  Fraser deserves to get laid, if anyone does.  Fraser deserves to get loved.

“No deal,” he says.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Kowalski!”  Vecchio flings up his hands in exasperation.

“I can’t do it,” says Kowalski, and his voice comes out low and calm even though he’s shaking all through his legs and stomach.  “If Fraser wants me.  You said that, I didn’t say that.  And he probably wants you more.  But if he wants me, that’s, that’s—it’s not something you just throw away.  It’s mine, and I’m keeping it.”

“Seems like if you cared all that much for Benny, you’d want to make him happy,” sneers Vecchio.

“Hey, there’s two ways to skin this cat,” snaps Kowalski.  “I don’t hear you volunteering to be the guy who bows out.”

“Hey, I been keeping my trap shut all this time ‘cause I thought you already _had_ the damn happy ending.”

“So it won’t even make a difference to you, then.”

Vecchio scowls at him for a long while and Kowalski glares right back. 

“Come on, Kowalski, this is stupid.”

Kowalski pictures Fraser looking at him with that disappointed expression he gets when Kowalski’s being a selfish bastard.  _He’d want you to,_ he tells himself.  _He’d do it for you.  If Vecchio’s right, he’s_ been _doing it for you._   He thinks about Fraser lying alone on his cot in his barely-heated shoebox of an apartment, with only a wolf for company.  He thinks about the smile that Fraser gives Vecchio sometimes, like the obnoxious Italian is the world’s best birthday present.

But Fraser turns that same smile on Kowalski, sometimes.  He does.  And Fraser said _If you’ll have me._   And sometimes a guy just has to draw that line in the sand.

So he keeps on looking at Vecchio, cool as ice on the outside, shaking on the inside.  And Vecchio wilts first.  He drops his eyes and lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“You’re right,” he sighs, shaking his head ruefully.  “I can’t do it, either.”

Weirdly, that actually makes Kowalski like the guy a little better.  “All right,” he says, smiling a little.  “So we’re both selfish bastards.”

Vecchio snorts.  “Gotta wonder what Benny sees in either of us.”

Kowalski shrugs.  “Looks, charm. . .”

“Don’t forget manners.”

“Oh yeah, right.”  He cracks his neck.  “Listen, Vecchio, this has been a real blast, but I’d like to get some sleep, so I’d appreciate it if you’d get your ass out of my apartment.  And let’s never talk about this again, okay?  Because this was weird enough, and I’m not sure I actually wanted to know all this shit.  I don’t know how I’m gonna look Fraser in the face ever again, without thinking about—”

“You can’t—you’re not gonna talk to him about this, are you?” Vecchio asks, the pitch of his voice creeping upwards.  “I mean, like, make a pass at him or something?  We’ve got a deal, right?  Everything stays like it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, you made your fucking point.  Don’t worry about it, I’m cool.”  But Kowalski’s heart is trying to hammer its way out of his chest, and not just from arguing with Vecchio. 

And Vecchio’s not stupid.  He scowls at Kowalski for a long moment.

“Shit.”  Vecchio stomps away from him to kick the leg of a nearby armchair.  “You’re going to blow this whole thing to bits, aren’t you, Kowalski?  You’ll tell him, or even if you don’t, you’ll act weird around him, and then Benny will ask you what’s wrong, and you’ll spill.  In fact, it won’t even take that long, because he’s going to want to straighten things out after your hissy-fit at dinner tonight, and you’ll crack like an egg.”

“Don’t freak out.  Fraser won’t push, not on something that actually has to do with him.  He don’t like talking about his own feelings—”

“Maybe he won’t, but you will, that’s all you do, is push.  Jeez, this is a disaster, what the hell was I thinking?  Trusting you, opening my big mouth—”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you shut it now, before I shut it for you?” snarls Kowalski.  His right arm pulls back reflexively, but he stops himself from actually throwing the punch.  Turns away, shaking both arms out; starts to pace, trying to calm down, trying to think.  Except he’s having a hard time thinking about anything but Fraser smiling at him.  Fraser touching him.  Fraser wanting _him._

Fraser wanting Vecchio.

Crap.

Fraser with that lost, hurt look on his face that he got from watching Janet-the-bounty-hunter walk away, only multiplied by a million.

Fraser holding out a bloody knife, statue-faced.

Crap, crap, crap.

He remembers the moment he first met Vecchio: the two of them eyeing each other like stranger dogs, Fraser with one hand on each of them, smiling like he’d hit the jackpot.

“Look, Vecchio,” he says, and his voice sounds pretty calm and reasonable even though he’s still vibrating like a guitar string.  “Why don’t we just give Fraser what he wants?”

“Did we not just have this conversation?  Is that not what I suggested two minutes ago?  And did we not just conclude that it wasn’t going to happen?”

“No,” says Kowalski.  “You suggested giving him _part_ of what he wants.”

“Huh?  I mean, sure, he can’t date both of us at once, but—”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why can’t he date both of us at once?”

Vecchio looks at him like he’s grown another head.  “Are we talking about the same Fraser, here?  Benny wouldn’t cheat.”

“Wouldn’t be cheating, though.  If we all agreed to it.”

Vecchio sputters for a while before he can get any actual words out.  “Well, okay, okay, fine, maybe it wouldn’t technically be cheating, but I don’t care what you call it, Fraser would never go for something like that.  He’s a traditional kind of guy.”

“You want to bet on that?” asks Kowalski.  “Fraser’s pretty broadminded.”

“About other people’s culture and shit like that, sure.  Not about sex.  Benny gets embarrassed if someone even thinks about sex nearby him.  Assuming he notices.”

“You want to bet on _that?_ ” asks Kowalski, leaning into Vecchio’s personal space just a little and letting a smirk play across his lips.

“No, that’s not the point, that’s completely beside the point.  The point is—the point is. . .” 

“The point is,” says Kowalski, “You were talking pretty big about how we should work together to make Fraser happy.  Was that just hot air, or were you serious?”

“I’m serious,” mutters Vecchio.  “But you’re a fucking nutcase.”

Kowalski shrugs.  “So’s Fraser.  How about it?”

“How would we even work something like that?” asks Vecchio.  “I mean, what, we’d write up some kind of schedule of visitation rights?”

The phrase makes Kowalski wince—divorce, the kids he never had with Stella, the kids he’ll probably never have at all—but he refuses to get distracted from the mind-bogglingly gigantic important thing going on here.

“I dunno,” he says.  “We’re pretty much doing that already, for work, and it works okay.”  He doesn’t want to think too hard about the three-musketeers hanging-out part, but maybe taking turns getting Fraser alone would mean less time him and Vecchio have to spend hanging out with each other, which would be just great.

“Yeah, I guess so,” says Vecchio grudgingly.  “But there’s a difference between work and. . .screwing around.”

“Whole lotta difference,” agrees Kowalski.  “But I tell you what: we sell Fraser on this plan, I bet he’d be totally happy to solve the what-do-you-call-it, logistical problem.  With, like, color-coded day planners and flowcharts and God knows what.”

Vecchio snorts, amused.  “Yeah, he probably would.”

“So?” 

“This is nuts, Kowalski.  You know that, right?”

It’s totally nuts, Kowalski doesn’t know why he’s even considering it, let alone trying to push Vecchio into it.  But that picture in his mind of Fraser’s smile is making his blood sing, and Vecchio’s right, pushing is what he does.  So he pushes.

“Come on, Vecchio, yes or no?  You and me, doing our bit to make life a little sweeter for _Benny_?”

Vecchio frowns.  “You don’t call him that.  You don’t get to call him that.”

“No, I don’t,” agrees Kowalski.  “But you do.  And it’s stupid, but he likes it, so there you go.”

Vecchio narrows his eyes, but then relaxes into a sweet half-smile that would be weird if Kowalski didn’t know that Vecchio’s got a lot of marshmallow under all that tough-guy bullshit. 

His stomach does a flip as he imagines Vecchio smiling like that at Fraser. . .Fraser’s face lighting up as he takes Vecchio’s chin in his hand, so gently. . .  _Everybody wins,_ he tells himself fiercely, shoving the image aside.  _Everybody wins, everybody’s happy, how often do things turn out that good?_

“So, Vecchio.”  He holds out his hand.  “We got a deal?”

Vecchio sighs and shakes his head like he does when he’s about to follow Fraser into a sewer. Then he reaches out to grip Kowalski’s hand. 

“Yeah, all right.  It’s a deal.”


End file.
